Heavy is the head that wears the crown,
A crown of blood, of love, of frown.
He fights the demons, in and outβ
Such is the man who soars with doubt.
Provider, Protector, Pontiff, Kingβ
Each role a weight, a stinging sting.
The price is steep, the path is grim,
It strips the soul and hardens him.
Parallel lives now blur the norm,
Behind calm eyes, a quiet storm.
Smiles conceal the tears they hide β
Each man must pay, with self and pride.
"Be bold," they say. "Be strong. Be brave."
Yet none can see the toll it gave.
The pain, the shame, the silent criesβ
That is all that is left when honor lies.
In mirrors cracked by time and years
He sees a face he can not revere.
A man of strength, yet worn and torn,
By battles fought since he was born.
And still he walks, though limbs may shake,
For othersβ peace, his own he will break.
A living myth, a silent vow β
But who will crown the weary now?
~Kngblaq
The struggles of young man trapped between love and family
